I'm an artist and writer who lives in the Appalachian foothills of Ohio. With this blog, I hope to show what happens when you make room in your life, every day, for the things that bring you joy. Strange...most of them are free.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

I've got two camera bodies now, my old Canon Digital Rebel XTi and my new Canon Digital Rebel XSi. When I'm on a serious photo safari, I carry both bodies, one with a long lens and one with the new 18-55 mm. landscape lens. It gives a little extra weight and cumbersomeness, but it beats switching lenses in mid-stride by a long shot.

Dawn broke, and I knew I was in for a serious snow photo safari. Ohboyohboyohboy I was jumping around like a cartoon hound.Finally, light. Finally, sun on this glittering palace of diamonds that would not last long. My chance of chances.

There were no tracks on the new-fallen snow. Time to track it up, but I snapped a record of its pristine state first.

My little spready Japanese maple was once a potted bonsai. It wasn't very happy in training, so I set it free, and now it's big enough to sit under, big enough to shade the Pig of Good Fortune, and it's where Baker goes on a hot summer day. And this day, it was encased in glass.

Th' Bacon went first, tracking up the path in his doggeh way.

He was verra happeh to be out at last, snow or no snow. He had his football letter jacket on; he was cookin'.

There were things under the snow that only he knew about, and he dug several deep holes down to the lairs of voles and shrews.

I don't know many people who would stick their whole face in the snow and enjoy it, but Th' Bacon does.

I turned around and looked back at our home, our refuge from this long storm.

The birding tower peeks up above the roof, my little writer's chamber beckoning. With the sun, it would be reasonably warm up there, even without heat, but I had pictures to take.

Farther out the meadow, a bluebird house bore evidence of the storm. We humans take a somewhat more elaborate form of shelter, but both work for our respective species.

Egad, I've been waiting for this wide-angle lens for three years. I don't know what I did without it. Now I want to go back to Guyana and shoot landscapes. Ah well. Other times, other trips.

The welljack that gives us our heat and cooking gas; that makes my Garden Pod warm and keeps us cozy all year round. I love that old thing, pumping away out there with no one to talk to.Like many in our oil-rich area, we have free gas from this well on our land. So, uh, we don't pay heating bills.

I know. I hear you New Englanders sputtering. It's not for everybody, but there are distinct percs to living in Appalachian Ohio. You couldn't get me out of here with a crowbar and a bomb. Even when the power goes off for days at a time. Maybe especially then.

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comments:

I've been reading your blog for a while but I think this is the first time I've commented - just wanted to say I share your love of Ohio. I'm a native Buckeye (from the Mohican area, not the Appalachian part, but we have hilliness in common) and I'm moving out of the state for the first time come May. I'll miss it.

I love the Bacon doing a head stand in the snow in his letter jacket, what a butt!!! But, I must interrupt this snowy story to tell you that I have woodcocks peenting behind my house in south western Ohio, RIGHT NOW!!! Oh boy oh boy oh boy!

Extraordinary beauty here. I'll say this again - what a wonderful life for Bacon, set free to roam within his boundaries. Wow. I completely understand you love for SE Ohio and your home. It's all so good.

There is another advantage to two bodies and not changing lenses, especially when shooting outdoors. Unlike the film in old SLRs, the sensors in digital SLRs are more vulnerable to dust and dirt. I know of at least one photographer who simply will not remove a lens except indoors in a clean environment.

I'm pretty sure I missed our meadow 'cocks tonight because I was at the grocery store at dusk. It's supposed to snow after 2 AM, bahhhh but it is just the kind of night--50 and wet--that they might start calling.

Rebecca, you can always come here for a shot of Ohio hills. Lots of transplanted Ohioans do, right Trixie?

Great tip, rm--I'll keep it in mind. My cameras take quite a bit of abuse, but now I can strike "frequent lens switches" off that list. To be replaced by "occasional inundation," "lens-first in mud droppage" and "frequent violent whackage."

I love that first photo--the breaking light of dawn. Wonderful.And Chet nose-diving. Obviously something is down there. Our dog does a similar thing (if we had snow, of course--which we haven't). She unearthed (unsnowed?) a bird a couple of years ago. Amazing that critters deep in the snow stay warm.You got oil in your Appalachian Ohio? We get radon in Appalachian PA! Hardly seems fair.

Julie, just wanted to let you know that I've really been enjoying all your wintry photos. It's actually kind of nice that you held off on showing these until well after the event was over... Makes me appreciate the beauty that it was again, even though I am so NOT in love with winter right now. Oh, and more Bacon Butt please!

What you're enjoying is the unavoidable lag time of this blog. I took so darn many pictures of the ice and snow that it took forever to upload, edit and organize them--kind of like Guyana, which I will probably still be blogging about when the warblers festoon the trees. It was killing me to still be writing about the tropics when this utterly amazing storm had us in its thrall, so I switched over. When the snow pics are gone we're going back to Guyana.

This morning, you can have the Bacon Butt. The kids and I were having a nice cuddle in bed with him when we all began suffering from asphyxiation.

About Me

I'm a natural history writer and artist, author of the lavishly illustrated books Letters from Eden: A Year at Home, In the Woods (2006), The Bluebird Effect: Uncommon Bonds With Common Birds (Oprah's Book of the Week, April 2012), and Baby Birds: An Artist Looks Into the Nest (due out from Houghton Mifflin Harcourt in 2016). I'm a Contributing Editor to Bird Watcher's Digest, write book reviews for The Wall Street Journal, and I lead natural history excursions for Holbrook Travel when I'm not speaking at birding festivals around the country or trying desperately to finish a book.

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